


My Boyfriend's Back

by withdiamonds



Category: Popslash
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-12-01
Updated: 2004-12-01
Packaged: 2017-10-16 00:38:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/166590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withdiamonds/pseuds/withdiamonds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My boyfriend's back, and you're gonna be in trouble.  The Angels, 1963</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Boyfriend's Back

“This is bullshit,” Justin declared. JC frowned at him. “Well, it is,” Justin continued irritably. “There’s no way we’re doing this again, not if I can help it.” He swatted at Joey’s hand, which was patting his shoulder in a way he knew Joey thought was soothing. It wasn’t.

“We?” JC waggled his eyebrows at him, which meant he had eaten breakfast with Lance. Or, rather, lunch. Brunch. Whatever JC called the meal he ate when he got out of bed in the middle of the day. Lance’s eyebrow action tended to rub off on JC if they spent too much time together dishing about mutual acquaintances. JC might be publicly discreet about people, never bad-mouthing anyone in the press, but in private, look out.

But did that mean Lance had spent the night at JC’s house? That didn’t make sense, because Chris hadn’t come back to Justin’s house until noon, and he had given Justin the impression that he spent the night at Lance’s house. So where did Joey sleep? Maybe at JC’s? Justin crossed his eyes, bemused. One of the reasons they decided to record the new album in LA was that Justin, JC and Lance all had houses out here. Now the five of them played musical houses until Justin never knew from one night to the next where any of them were.

Wait, he’d been making a point. Possibly. “Yes, we,” Justin snapped. “You’re not actually gonna try to sit there and tell me it doesn’t affect the rest of us when they start with this crap, are you?”

No, they didn’t dare try it. Justin nodded his head sharply in triumph. “Okay. Now. What are we gonna do about it?” He scooted his chair closer to the old couch where Joey and JC were perched.

JC looked at him in alarm. “What do you mean, do about it?” He edged nearer to Joey. JC believed in live and let live, especially where Chris and Lance were concerned.

“I _mean_ , I’m not going through that again. Don’t you remember the last time? And all the times before that?” He shuddered, the hair-raising memories momentarily leaving him speechless.

“Justin…” Joey started. He put his arm protectively around JC.

Justin glared. “Have you forgotten Jesse? The Mohawk? The tattoo of death!?” He jabbed his finger impatiently at Joey’s chest. Joey winced, but Justin didn’t care. _“The nose-job!?!”_ His voice rose on that last one and Joey winced again. JC tucked his hand into Joey’s and together they stared at Justin in dismay.

“Shit,” Joey sighed. “You’re right, man.”

“Dude. We get it, okay? We’re with you on this one. Stop yelling.” JC glared at him, eyebrows wiggling furiously up and down his forehead like a couple of drunken caterpillars. Staring at him distractedly, Justin lost his train of thought. Joey recalled him to a sense of his surroundings by yanking on his hat.

Justin snorted as he pulled his hat back up over his eyes. “Of course I’m right.” He turned to JC. “Any ideas on how to get their heads out of each other’s asses? I mean, you know, how to get them to see that they belong together and should, like, take this fucking thing seriously this time? C?”

But JC shook his head, apparently fresh out of ideas for dealing with the prospect of Chris and Lance engaging in another doomed mating ritual, their three bandmates watching helplessly from the sidelines. Each time they got together and then broke up, it led to disasters of epic proportions. Well, at least to unfortunate hairstyles and questionable fashion choices, excessive alcohol consumption, plastic surgery, and after one memorable breakup, the rather pornographic photo shoot where Lance met Jesse. That certainly qualified as a disaster.

It also led to a lot of annoyance for the innocent bystanders caught up in all the drama.

“Guess not.” Justin dismissed JC and frowned, thinking deeply. “Well, unless you want a repeat of the last time, I suggest somebody come up with an idea, pretty damn snappy.”

When Chris and Lance showed up an hour later, Justin was huddled around the table with Joey and JC in the small utility kitchen attached to the recording studio, scraps of paper with scratched-out writing on them littering the tabletop and the surrounding floor. They quickly stopped talking, although JC kept whispering in Joey’s ear until Joey grinned slyly and whispered back. Justin was pretty sure they had wandered off the topic at hand.

Lance stared at them, looking suspicious. Justin plastered an innocent smile on his face. “Hi, y’all. We were just trying to decided where to go for dinner.”

“Me and Lance already have plans, sorry, dude.” Chris didn’t sound even remotely sorry. Dickhead.

“Um, J, you know Kelly and Bri are out here for a couple days.” Joey checked his watch. “In fact, I’m kinda late already.” He stood up and turned to JC. “You coming, C?”

“Yeah.” JC stood up, too. “Later, cats. Maybe we can, I don’t know, get some actual tracks laid down tomorrow?” JC couldn’t really carry sarcasm off very well, Justin didn’t think. He was too fucking earnest. Justin watched them walk out, Joey’s arm slung over JC’s shoulder, their heads tilted together as they talked. That was one relationship he was never going to figure out, even if they explained it to him, which he fervently hoped they never did. He shook his head and turned his attention back to Lance and Chris, who were looking very satisfied with themselves. There was a purple bruise on the side of Chris’s neck, under his jaw, and Lance had definite beard-burn.

“Dinner, huh?” Lance snorted. He tugged on Chris’s hand. “Come on, Kirkpatrick. Justin has dinner plans to make.”

Chris made a kissy-face at Justin. “See ya, Timberlake.”

Justin listened to their laughter echo down the hallway as they headed towards the door. Fuckers. He needed to find a way to convince them that they belonged together for real this time or else they were never going to get anything done around here. He didn’t want to still be working on *NSYNC’s next CD when he was thirty, not if he could help it.

*

Joey had long since given up on the notion that Lance somehow needed his protection. Even back in the day, while Lance had _appreciated_ Joey’s efforts to shield him from the worst the pop world could throw at him, he really hadn’t _needed_ the help. He had, for the most part, been polite enough not to tell Joey outright to back the fuck off, that Lance wasn’t a ten-year old girl, but Joey wasn’t stupid and it was obvious that Lance could take care of himself. It was even more obvious that when it came to Chris, Joey’s efforts on Lance’s behalf were only going to get him punched out by Chris and bitched out by Lance. He still worried, though.

He stretched out on the ugly brown plaid studio couch. It had seen better days, but it was big enough to accommodate him and a few other people, too, if necessary. He laid there comfortably and watched JC and Justin, who were hunched over the mixing board, murmuring agreeably to each other. Agreeably, because it was early days, and the glow of recording together again hadn’t worn off yet. Joey could feel it dim a little each day, though, and he was biding his time. When the inevitable blow-up came, Joey was going to be there to pick up the slack. He didn’t see anything wrong with having a power ballad or two on the record, something he could belt out to reach the last row of the balcony. Maybe not “Suddenly, Seymour,” because Justin was right, that was a duet, and who was going to sing Audrey’s part, Chris? But he’d think of something, and when the time came, he’d be ready.

“Joey. Joey! Dude, get your mind off Broadway and pay attention. This is important.” Chris waved a hand in his face and smacked the back of his head at the same time.

“Ow. Quit it, asshole. What do you want?”

“Where’s Lance?” Chris danced across the small space of floor in front of the scruffy couch and after a minute or two, Joey recognized the choreography from “I Want You Back.” He immediately started going through the steps in his head as if it were nine years ago and they were waiting backstage at TRL. There were some reflexes he just couldn’t control.

Joey eyed Chris thoughtfully, debating whether or not to tell him where Lance was. Chris either wanted Lance’s help in thinking up ways to annoy Justin, or else he was horny and looking to drag Lance away for a quickie. Either way meant a disruption in the recording process and Joey decided he was down with that.

“He’s in the bathroom,” Joey answered, and Chris’s eyes lit up with anticipation and lust. Well, that answered that question. Joey found it a bit disturbing that he knew what lust looked like on Chris’s face. Maybe the hiatus hadn’t been long enough after all. He could have extended his run in _Grease_ another few months with no problems, really.

“Gotta go. Gotta take a leak. Nice talkin’ with ya, Joe.” Chris was out the door in a flash of baggy shorts and white tube socks. Joey shook his head. Chris was dressed up today, he noted with amusement. Probably trying to impress Lance.

Maybe they could rework something from Grease, Joey mused. The Beatles did it with a song from the _The Music Man_ , after all. He went back to watching Justin and JC in the booth, idly humming “Beauty School Drop-out” under his breath.

*

“JC. JC!” JC pulled his thoughts away from trying to think up creative yet painless ways to kill Justin. So far he had come up with making him trip over one of the many cables running across the studio floor and breaking his neck, smothering him with his stupid-looking hat, and electrocuting him by getting him to dip the handheld mike into his extra-large double espresso. None of these were exactly painless, but you couldn’t have everything. Even the best-laid plans had flaws, JC knew.

So far his favorite scenario involved shoving Justin between Lance and Chris when they decided it had been too long since they last had sex. JC was all in favor of sex, in fact his second CD dealt with the subject even more enthusiastically than his first one did. The only thing that saved his ass from a total radio ban was the fact that he had conveniently been dating Halle Berry at the time of the CD’s release. The publicity from that propelled the first single, “200 Ways to Do Your Lover,” and its follow-up, “Faster, Harder, Deeper,” to the top of both the pop and the dance charts, which in turn fueled sales of _Pornographic_ until it almost outsold _Goin’ Back to Memphis_ , Justin’s paean to southern rock. The resulting arena tour with Gwen Stefani was wildly successful, and it also drove Chris insane with jealousy, which made the whole thing even more special.

Right now, Justin was poking JC’s shoulder to get his attention. “Put that finger away, Justin, unless you want to lose it.” It was an idle threat and they both knew it. For all his murderous fantasies, JC was a peaceful guy. He wasn’t above using Chris to do his violence for him, though, if it became necessary.

“Where’s Chris?” He looked around the studio, spotting Joey on the battered couch, wearing the special smile he wore when he was plotting something. JC smiled back. He didn’t see any signs of the other two. It wasn’t hard to guess what they were doing, wherever they were.

Justin smirked at him. “He’s not here.” He poked JC again. JC frowned menacingly. Justin just grinned at him, all bright blue eyes and curly hair. JC reluctantly grinned back. This felt so right after too long apart, even with the potential for violence and heartbreak.

“Okay, dude, the echo on Lance’s vocals here…does that sound a little twangy to you? Is he trying to like, sneak some country in there?” They put their heads together again, listening to the playback, and JC momentarily forgot all about the soap opera that was playing out around him, probably in the bathroom.

*

Chris approached the bathroom with cautious anticipation. It felt mostly right, him and Lance being together again, but on some level, he was uneasy. Nervous. A little scared. Okay, he was downright terrified, he was a big enough man to admit that. Experience had shown he wasn’t exactly an expert on knowing when Lance had his shit together and when he didn’t. This could possibly be a monumental mistake. He wasn’t sure he was up to doing this again.

Lance stood at the sink, washing his hands and peering at his reflection in the mirror. As Chris watched, Lance tilted his head to the right and touched the tip of his nose with his forefinger. He frowned. Okay, that was one reason Chris was willing to try this again. Lance was fucking adorable. Chris cleared his throat and Lance whirled around, quickly dropping his hands to his sides, attempting to cover by pretending to dry his hands on his jeans. Chris grinned and came closer. Lance eyed him cautiously. He flicked Lance’s nose with his finger, and then leaned in and planted a kiss right on the tip. Lance blinked at him.

“It’s cute, Bass. I like it.” He did, too. There certainly hadn’t been anything wrong with Lance’s old nose, but Chris was totally fine with the new one. Whatever made Lance happy.

Lance sighed. “My mom almost killed me, you know. I think she’s _still_ mad.”

“I know. She called me up and yelled at me about it. A lot, man.” Chris was still a little indignant about that.

“Why’d she yell at you? You didn’t have anything to do with it. You weren’t even around at the…oh.” Lance looked at the floor, then straightened his shoulders and looked Chris in the eye. “That was almost two years ago. I apologize on behalf of my mom. Now kiss me.”

The unexpected command went straight to Chris’s crotch. He loved it when Lance got all bossy. He smiled and happily complied. He licked at Lance’s lips until he opened up and let him in. His mouth was hot and silky and Chris couldn’t get enough of it. Their noses didn’t bump together as much as they used to, he noticed.

Chris backed Lance up until his ass was practically in the sink. He managed to get his other hand between their bodies, tugging at the zipper on Lance’s jeans and impatiently shoving them down to his knees. Lance’s stomach fluttered under Chris’s fingers. His skin was smooth and golden and Chris dropped his forehead to Lance’s shoulder to just breathe him in.

“Hop up,” he murmured in Lance’s ear. Lance hoisted himself up on the counter between the sinks, grimacing as he sat in a puddle of water. Chris distracted him by closing his hand firmly around his dick. It was hard and leaking already. He didn’t move, he just waited for Lance to react.

”Ohgodohgodohgod,” Lance groaned. Chris laughed and Lance shoved at his shoulder with the hand that wasn’t trying to get inside Chris’s shorts. “Shut up,” he growled. Chris laughed again and did that thing with his thumb that Lance liked so well, the thing that made him abandon his bitching in favor of moaning. There was a certain whimpering sound that Chris could occasionally get Lance to make, if he touched him just the right way, and he wanted to hear it again. It was one of the things he had missed the most.

They were kissing again, wet, hungry kisses, and Chris moved his hand the way he knew Lance wanted. He broke away when Lance gasped and then he heard what he’d been waiting for. Lance whimpered as he threw his head back and came all over Chris’s hand. Chris mentally high-fived himself as Lance whimpered a second time. He rocked.

When Lance appeared capable of breathing without assistance, Chris kissed the tip of his nose again, just to make sure Lance knew he really liked it. “My turn, Bass.”

Lance smiled with lazy satisfaction. He looked pretty happy for a guy sitting in a puddle of water with his pants around his ankles. “You’re a real sweet-talker, you know that?” He reached down and rubbed the heel of his hand over Chris’s erection.

Chris pushed his hips against Lance’s hand, and whispered, “That’s it, Bass. I missed this, you know.” Chris was very close to whimpering himself. “God, your hands. Don’t make me come in my shorts, man. J’ll shit himself if he sees that,” he added on a pleading note.

Lance laughed. He very efficiently rid Chris of his pants and the sensation of his warm hand on Chris’s bare skin was enough to send Chris over the edge. He came loudly and Lance kissed him quiet.

“I missed you, too.” Lance said softly before kissing him again.

*

Chris didn’t miss the quick frown on Justin’s face when he and Lance went back into the studio, laughing together as Chris slipped his hand into Lance’s back pocket. Joey looked up from what was apparently his permanent place on the beat-up old couch, grinning lewdly. It was obvious what they’d been doing, just the way Lance’s hips rolled when he walked, loose and easy, was enough to give it away. They weren’t trying to hide it though, that would be impossible around here, and Chris was never one to tilt at windmills that weren’t named Lance Bass.

Justin could just get over himself.

“Nice of you two to join us. What? Are we working here, or what?” The studio was the only place Justin could get away with telling Chris what to do, and he liked to take full advantage of it.

JC looked over at them. “Lance, don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing on this song here.” Okay, great, so they were both in pissy producer mode today.

Lance shrugged. “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about, JC. I sang my part just like I always do.” Chris loved the way Lance could lie his head off while looking totally sincere. It was a real gift.

“Dude, that twang is a bit obvious, don’t you think?” JC had a glint in his eye that said he was prepared to do battle if he had to. He ran his hands through his hair, apparently forgetting that it was artfully tangled and combed forward this week, and glowered at them.

“There’s nothing wrong with a bit of a twang, C,” Justin said. JC transferred his glare to Justin, obviously incensed at this piece of perfidy.

“It’s not gonna happen, dude.” JC had a mulish set to his mouth that Chris recognized from a thousand studio sessions. Sometimes, particularly if the difference of opinion was with Justin, he was perfectly capable of being as stubborn as a pig, even when he actually agreed with Justin. Sometimes, it was more important to uphold tradition than to actually get anything accomplished. Sometimes Chris wondered how they ever did.

He tugged on Lance’s sleeve. “Let’s get out of here. They could do this all night.” As they slipped back out the door, Chris sent up a silent prayer of thanks that JC was such a pain in the ass in the studio.

*

Justin yanked his headphones off the minute the door shut behind Chris and Lance. “Guys!” he hissed dramatically. “Over here.” Joey just stared at him and Justin sighed. “Okay, okay.” He and JC made their way over to the tattered couch, and Joey moved his feet just enough for JC to sit next to him. Justin didn’t care, he was planning on pacing, anyway.

“Did you see them? They’re so doing it again.” He paused, thinking hard.

“Duh, Justin,” Joey said, rapping his knuckles on JC’s forehead. JC just smiled. “Of course they’re doing it again. They have been for a couple weeks now, you know.” He looked up at Justin curiously. “Didn’t we already have this conversation, man?”

“J, seriously, what do you want us to do about it?” JC asked. “I thought we decided to just, like, monitor the situation for now.” Justin ignored the way JC’s hand seemed to find its way to Joey’s thigh of its own accord. He just didn’t want to know. He resumed pacing, incorporating a little footwork into the turns.

“Dude, this is gonna implode in our faces if we don’t do something!” He couldn’t understand why they hadn’t come up with a plan yet.

“Implode?” JC looked at him quizzically. “Don’t you mean explode?” Joey snickered.

“Whatever. It’s gonna be messy, whichever way it blows.” There was dead silence for a minute, then JC collapsed into helpless laughter, clutching Joey’s knees while Joey giggled into his hair.

Justin stopped pacing again and tried to glare down at them as he fought the smile that tugged at his mouth. “Y’all’re such dickheads.”

JC caught his breath, wiped his eyes and said unsteadily, “J, what do you want, honey? What would make you, you know, feel better about this whole thing?”

Justin thought for a minute. He thought about the hope in Chris’s eyes when he told Justin that he and Lance were back on again, and he remembered the first time he heard how much every one of the songs on Chris’s CD hurt. “I just want them to figure it out. It’s just time.” He shrugged.

Joey and JC stopped laughing. JC scrunched up his face in thought. “Isn’t that kinda up to them, I mean, you know, _their_ decision?”

“Joey, _you_ know I’m right. Come on,” Justin pleaded as he started pacing again, this time adding a little shoulder hitch and finger snap every two steps.

Joey nodded. “Maybe. I’ve been watching Lance, he might be ready this time,” he conceded.

“Well, what are we supposed to do about it?” JC asked again. He rested his head on Joey’s shoulder and Joey dropped a kiss on the top of his head.

Justin did a pelvic thrust as he made the turn to go back the other way, using a stutter-step to change the direction of his pacing. “I don’t know. Keep thinking, I guess.” He rolled his eyes as Joey and JC tried to look like they were deep in thought while Joey rubbed the back of JC’s neck and JC arched into his touch like a cat.

*

“How long are you going to be gone?”

Chris listened for anything in Lance’s voice that would give him some indication of what Lance was thinking. As far as Chris knew, they were still doing the whole no strings attached dealio, but he’d been wrong about that in the past, and he didn’t want to fuck it up again. If Lance thought things were all hearts and flowers ‘till death do them part this time, Chris wanted to know now. There was no reason why they should be, but you never knew with Lance.

Lance’s voice was pretty neutral, so Chris answered casually, “Just for the weekend.” He licked from Lance’s collarbone to his jaw, pausing a moment to suck on his Adam’s apple.

Lance shifted beneath him, tilting his head back to make his neck more accessible. “Like Friday and Saturday, and you’ll be back Sunday? Or Saturday and Sunday and you’ll be back Monday? What do you mean by ‘the weekend?’” Okay, so maybe there _was_ something there.

“Um, both? I’m leaving Friday and I’ll be back on Monday.” Chris watched Lance, gauging his reaction. He put his hand on the back of Chris’s neck and pulled him close, without meeting his eyes. His expression was impossible to read.

“M’kay, whatever. I’ll see you when you get back. Have a good trip.” Lance planted a quick kiss on Chris’s lips and made a move to get up.

“Um, Lance? It’s only Tuesday. I’m not leaving for three more days.” Chris pushed Lance back down on the pillows.

“Oh. Right.” Lance laughed uncertainly, then arched up, rubbing his dick against Chris’s stomach. Chris rolled his eyes.

Swell. No mixed signals here. Nope, everything was as clear as mud.

*

So. Chris was in Orlando. His house was there, most of his family was there, he had shit to do there. Lance understood that. He himself had several houses, and he knew it was sometimes necessary to visit them. He wasn’t the least bit concerned with what Chris was doing for entertainment down there, nor was he interested in who he might be doing it with. They were not exclusive. Not this time. Nope. No way.

“Lance. Lance!” Joey wrapped an arm around his neck and squeezed, a little too tight, but Lance appreciated the gesture anyway. He curled his hand around Joey’s wrist in gratitude.

“I do _not_ want to talk about it, Joe.” It was futile, he knew, but he had to make at least a token attempt to avoid a heart-to-heart with Joey, or it would throw the whole rhythm of their interaction off. There was tradition to maintain here, after all.

“Like I care.” Joey’s neck embrace became a head-lock as he dragged Lance to the couch. In the booth, Justin and JC didn’t even look up as Lance struggled to keep his footing. He finally gave into the inevitable, both physically and conversationally and flopped down onto the worn-out couch, half on top of Joey and said, “Chris is in Orlando.”

“Hello, Captain Obvious, I know that. He lives there. So do I, as a matter of fact. Why is this a problem?” Joey shoved Lance’s elbow off of his stomach.

Lance shrugged and watched the resulting ripples move across Joey’s belly. “I don’t know.” He answered gloomily.

“Yes, you do, bonehead.” Joey waited. He could be very patient when he wanted to be. Lance knew he could outwait him, as long as Joey didn’t get too physically abusive while he was being patient.

“No, really, Joey, I have no idea.” Lance felt Joey’s arms tense a little as if in preparation for a surprise tickle attack. Lance could just see himself at 80 years old, using a walker to fend Joey off when he wanted Lance to spill his guts about the crappy food in the Home for Retired Popstars, or something.

“Did you want to go with him?” Joey’s fingers twitched in warning and Lance had no choice but to talk.

“I couldn’t. Jessica and her dad and I have a meeting tomorrow morning about the second season. Joe wants to make a few format changes and I think Jess wants to redo the set. Again.” Joey snorted. Lance and Jessica Simpson were about to start taping the second season of their highly successful LA-based talk show, _Star Watch with Lance and Jessica_. Because her name was last in the show’s title, (hello, it was _alphabetical_ , well, by their last names anyway), Jessica compensated by trying to control everything. She was relentless enough that Lance sometimes reconsidered calling the show _Jessica Simpson’s Star Watch with Lance Bass_ just to shut her up. The opportunity to occasionally ogle Nick Lachey’s ass made it all a little easier to deal with, however.

“And? What else?” Joey was implacable. He knew Lance too well.

“Andhedidn’taskmetogo.” Lance said. He waited in silence while Joey pondered this.

“Lance- what are you guys doing this time around?” The nice thing about Joey was that he never judged. He was just there when you needed him. So Lance could answer the question and feel safe that Joey wouldn’t tell him straight out that he was a moron. Except Lance had no idea what the answer was.

He shook his head. Joey didn’t say anything, just tucked Lance under his arm and settled deeper into the shabby couch cushions. Lance closed his eyes and let the rhythm of Joey’s breathing lull him into a stupor so he didn’t have to think.

*

Lance went to Vegas on Sunday. Vegas was like a force-field, pulling him in, and he put up only a token resistance. George Maloof welcomed him to the Palms with his usual pleasure at having his business, and Lance didn’t bother pretending he was there to check up on his house. He did, of course, to make sure his current roommates hadn’t run off with his dogs or his DVD collection, but his heart wasn’t really in it, and he booked a room at the hotel for the night. He mostly just wanted to drink and maybe gamble a little.

Ten grand richer, Lance moved away from the blackjack table and headed for one of the bars. That’s where most places kept their alcohol supply, after all. He decided on Rain. He would go in there and let the pyrotechnics soothe his soul.

A glass of champagne in each hand, Lance turned away from the bar. He found himself face to face with Wilmer Valderrama, who had Paris Hilton draped across his elbow. “Are those for us?” Paris inquired lazily.

Lance grinned happily. “Hey, what’s up?” He handed one of his drinks to Wilmer and the other to Paris, leaning forward to kiss the air next to her cheek. She smirked at him, her eyelids drooping in feigned boredom.

“Come on, we have a skybox,” Wilmer invited. Lance followed in their wake as they headed across the crowded room.

“Yo, Lance!” Lance looked over as they passed a private cabana holding Aaron Carter, flanked on either side by Jenna and Barbara Bush. There were a couple of dour-looking men in black leaning importantly up against the wall behind them, watching everyone who came within ten feet of Aaron and his entourage.

Lance flapped a hand at Aaron and the girls in greeting. One of the Secret Service agents turned to look at them and Lance felt a glimmer of recognition. If Lance remembered correctly, the guy gave great head. It was good to occasionally fuck people who had more of a stake in secrecy than he did. He frowned. He wasn’t fucking anyone but Chris now, was he? They hadn’t really said, this time.

Paris jabbed him with her elbow in an attempt to reclaim his attention. For someone who appeared to have no real bone structure to support her body, her bones were actually quite pointy.

Two hours later, Lance was drunk enough that he considered going to bed. Alone. Or maybe he should go back to the Casino. He extricated his feet from Paris’s discarded shoes under the table and stood up, impressed with how gracefully he managed it. He was dimly aware of the many hands on his ass shoving him up. He most certainly did not stumble as he turned to walk away from the table.

Wilmer stood up before he could go. “Hey, Lance. Paris and I were thinking about heading upstairs, too. Wanna join us?” Lance blinked. Did Wilmer mean what Lance thought he meant?

“Do you mean what I think you mean?”

“Depends. What do you think I mean?” Was Wilmer _leering_ at him? What the fuck?

“What the fuck, Wilmer?” He swayed slightly on his feet. Or maybe that was Wilmer.

Wilmer nudged him with his shoulder and Paris tilted her head at him, all heavy-lidded eyes and pouting lips. For a moment, Lance was so very, very tempted. He remembered that Chris was in Orlando without him, and hadn’t invited him along. Chris, who had said goodbye so easily, casually, before he left for the airport.

Paris put her hand on his arm and Wilmer flung an arm over his shoulder. Paris’s fingers were warm and Wilmer’s breath was hot in his ear as he whispered, “C’mon, Bass. You know you want to.” Lance shivered.

But then he closed his eyes and saw Chris, eyes warm with delight Friday morning, laughing as Lance spread his legs just because of the look on Chris’s face, and saying, “God, Bass, what am I going to do without this ass for four days?”

Lance pulled away from Wilmer. “I think I’m just gonna go to my own room and crash.” Paris pouted and Wilmer frowned with annoyance.

“Lance, come on,” Wilmer said.

“No, really, guys, I think I’m just gonna call it a night.” Lance started to move in the direction of the exit. He shook Paris off his arm, looked Wilmer in the eye and said firmly, “No, not tonight. I’ll see you guys around.”

Paris tugged on Wilmer’s arm and Lance heard her say languidly, “It’s okay, baby. We don’t need him,” as he headed out of the club.

Safe in his double king-size bed, one hand still on his dick, Lance trailed his fingers through the stickiness on his stomach, not sure why he had passed up what probably would have been amazing sex. The only reason he could come up with was in Orlando right now. As he closed his eyes, there was one thought running though his mind- it was possible he was totally fucked, and not in the good way, and certainly not tonight.

*

Chris rolled into the studio late Monday afternoon, his plane having landed at noon. He had fun in Orlando, but that was mostly because he hung out with his mom the whole time. He didn’t tell her that he and Lance were a thing again, because he didn’t want to get yelled at.

Things were just getting started when Chris arrived. JC was alone at the soundboard and Lance was sprawled out on the ratty couch, reading a movie script. He looked relaxed enough, but Chris could tell by the way he was thumbing through the pages that he was actually pretty agitated. Chris frowned.

Lance looked up as the door closed behind Chris. His face was a calm, unreadable mask, his hair carefully spiked, his eyebrows noncommittal.

Chris smiled uncertainly. Lance stared back dispassionately. Neither one of them moved.

“What the fuck, Lance?” Chris shifted from foot to foot until he made himself stop.

After a long moment, Lance said, “Did you have a good time?” His voice gave nothing away. Chris wanted to touch him, but whatever it was that was making Lance hold himself so still made him wait. It wasn’t easy.

“Sure.” Chris shrugged nonchalantly. “Mom says hi.” He waited some more.

“What do you mean?” Lance asked sharply.

“I mean, she says hi. Hey. How are you? What’s up? What do you mean, what do I mean?” Chris was beginning to get a bit exasperated. He started bouncing again.

“I mean, why would she say hi to me? Unless…do you mean she says hi in general, to all of us?” Lance looked down at his script, his cheeks slightly flushed.

“Well, yeah, what did you think I mea-” Chris stopped. “Oh. You thought-” He was silent for a minute. “I, um, I didn’t tell her-”

Lance’s long, slim fingers made little tears in the pages he was holding. Chris watched in fascination. He loved Lance’s hands. “No, that’s cool. It’s not like-” he broke off, not looking up from the destruction of his script.

Right. It wasn’t like that at all. Chris racked his brain trying to come up with something to say. “So. What did you get up to this weekend?” Maybe that was a safe topic. What the hell. This was what happened when you started to fuck up perfectly good awesome sex with feelings and shit.

After a tense minute, during which Chris didn’t breathe, Lance answered, “I went to Vegas. I so needed that after the meeting on Saturday. I don’t know who’s worse, Joe or Jessica.” Chris relaxed a little. He moved across the room and sat down on the couch next to Lance, leaving a careful distance between them for the time being. He wanted to sniff Lance’s neck.

“Was Nick there?” Chris smiled. Lance so had a thing for Nick’s ass. Well, who didn’t? It was a spectacular ass, almost as amazing as Chris’s was. Not quite on a par with Lance’s ass, though.

“For a while. It was good.” Lance grinned back. Relief hit Chris like an adrenalin rush, leaving him dizzy. This was normal, this he could do.

“But?” Chris was willing to let Lance bitch about Jessica all afternoon if that would lighten things up.

“Well, Jess wants to add a kitchen to the set, and she wants to make the living room set pink again, and I thought we had established that there wasn’t gonna be any more damn pink. And Joe likes the idea of a kitchen, but what the hell for? I’m not Nick, and if they want to get all domestic, then get Nick in there and forget the guests and go back to the Newlyweds.” Lance closed his eyes and waved his hand. “Whatever. I went to Vegas.”

“What’s wrong with pink, dude?” JC called, looking up from whatever he was fiddling with at the soundboard.

“Hey, C. Where’s J?” Chris welcomed the interruption gratefully. He didn’t quite trust the break in the tension.

“Lunch with Ashton.” Chris nodded. “You know, a big movie star power lunch. J’s trying to talk Ashton into reading that script Lance found.”

“There’s nothing wrong with pink, JC, if _you’re_ wearing it. But not on the set of my show,” Lance drawled. He was slouched back against the armrest, at least outwardly relaxed now, and he raised his eyebrows at Chris as he spoke. He looked pretty damn hot. It had been a long weekend.

Chris and JC both laughed. JC turned back to the soundboard, and Chris said, “Vegas, huh? Did you hang at the Palms?” Chris inched closer, throwing his leg across Lance’s knees.

“Sure. George says hi. I ran into Wilmer and Paris. And get this, Aaron was there with the Bush twins.” Lance looked a little dreamy-eyed. He loved twins, both male and female.

He listened as Lance gossiped about his weekend in Vegas while he poked his fingers through one of the holes in Chris’s jeans, playing with his leg hair. JC laughed from the board. Lance seemed a little guarded, like maybe he was leaving something out. Chris listened for the nuances that would give him a hint. It had something to do with Wilmer and Paris, he thought. Lance actually glossed over his description of what Paris was wearing, which he usually took delight in describing, especially to JC, who appreciated it in a way normal people didn’t.

Chris’s Spidey-sense tingled. He didn’t like this at all. Goddamn, he must be jealous. Why else would he be all suspicious? He couldn’t be jealous. There had to be another explanation. There was no way he was gonna go all possessive now, not after all these years. Lance would kill him.

Good Lord, was he in _love?_ He hoped not, there was no way Lance would take that well.

“Chris. Chris!” Lance looked worried. Chris dragged his brain away from its treacherous thoughts.

“Yeah, baby?” He made a smoochie face at Lance to throw him off guard, so he wouldn’t suspect Chris’s sudden epiphany about his secret love.

“Um, do you wanna go get something to eat?” Good idea, food would distract Lance from Chris’s love vibing all over the studio.

“Sure, baby.” Lance stared at him quizzically. Chris cleared his throat. Bouncing, his leg was bouncing. Lance put both hands on his knee to stop it.

Lance said, “Right. Can we go now? I’m supposed to meet-”

“Oh, no you don’t, Chris.” JC’s voice cut in, and thank God for that, because any more scrutiny from Lance and Chris was going to cave, just tell Lance right this minute that he was madly in love with him and how could he ever have thought any differently, what the hell was the matter with them, and did Lance feel the same way about Chris? “You just got here, and I need you.”

“Okay,” Chris said meekly. He tried never to argue with JC in the studio. It was unprofitable and exhausting, even for someone with Chris’s energy. He shot a sideways look at Lance. “You go ahead, I’ll get something later. Ray might drop by after a bit, he can buy me dinner.”

Lance looked at him funny. “M’kay,” he said. Chris felt like he might explode if he had to be with Lance for even one more minute.

“I’ll see you after?” Maybe by then he’d feel less agitated, and he could touch Lance without scaring him with his needy love.

Lance kissed him goodbye chastely on the lips. Chris caught JC watching them with a worried look on his face. If _JC_ was worried, they were totally fucked.

And who the hell was Lance meeting for dinner?

*

Lance looked around the restaurant, curious if anyone he knew was there. “Quit networking. We’re eating dinner,” Joey ordered. Lance ignored him and let his eyes sweep the room at random intervals, keeping Joey off balance while he tried to concentrate on his dessert.

“Look, isn’t that-” Lance broke off when Joey flicked an ice cube from his drink at him. He threw it back and it landed in Joey’s tiramisu.

“I don’t care.” Joey closed his eyes in bliss while he rolled a bit of mascarpone around in his mouth. “J’s about to have a nervous breakdown, you know,” he added conversationally.

Lance shifted his gaze away from the table in the far corner next to the kitchen, where he swore he could see Eva Longoria sitting. “What? Why?”

“You and Chris.” He held his hand up, saying, “I know, man, but you’ve gotta admit the two of you can get a little crazy.”

“Yeah, I know we have some…unfortunate history,” Lance admitted. He didn’t think it was cool for Joey to snort like that while he was eating.

“Yes. Unfortunate. That’s the word for it, all right.” Joey was really starting to get on Lance’s nerves.

“What do you want from me, Joey?” His voice sounded whiny and defensive even to his own ears.

“Calm down. I’m just curious is all,” Joey said reassuringly through a mouthful of food. “What can we look forward to this time? Are you gonna shave your head? Is Chris gonna break another bone? Get Bev’s name tattooed on his ass?” Joey paused. “Okay, never mind that last one.”

Lance stared at him. “What the fuck are you talking about, Joe?” he demanded.

“Lance, come on, man, you know I love you, but when it comes to Chris- when it comes to _breaking up_ with Chris, you get a little weird. I just want to be prepared for when I have to pick up the pieces again.” Joey chewed calmly.

Lance could feel himself flush. “What if I don’t want to break up this time, Joey?”

“You mean, like, stay together? Forever? You think you’re ready for that?”

“I could do long-term if I really wanted to.” Lance was indignant. “I’m not as shallow as you seem to think I am.”

“No, I know. I didn’t mean you couldn’t do it.” Joey didn’t sound totally convincing. His acting skills were a bit off. It was all that Broadway, having to do everything so big and exaggerated. “Really.”

Lance sighed. “I know, it’s not something I’ve done much of. But I so could,” he finished wistfully.

“Is that what you want?” Joey paused with the fork halfway to his mouth.

“Maybe. I might. Possibly.” Lance kept his eyes focused on the table.

“Does Chris know about this?” Joey licked whipped cream off his nose.

“No! And I don’t want him to, so don’t you say anything!” Lance panicked at the very idea.

“Um, Lance, I hate to tell you this, but you kind of need both people in a relationship to know that’s there’s actually a relationship happening.” He paused to swallow. “Well, usually you do,” he amended. “There was that one time with C and these two-”

“I _know_ that, Joey. Sheesh. I just don’t know what Chris wants.” And that was the truth. He didn’t know and he was afraid to find out.

“You could ask him,” Joey said, as though he was explaining something to an idiot.

Lance laughed, but it wasn’t really funny. “Are you insane?” he asked. “That was rhetorical, by the way.

“Ha fucking ha. I’d like to think not, not yet, anyway. Although some people are trying to-”

“Finish your dessert, Joe.” He meant for it to sound firm, but even he could hear the note of pleading in his voice. Fortunately, Joey responded well to pleading. He stuffed the last forkful into his mouth and said around it, “You’re buying, right?” He pushed his plate away. Lance was surprised he wasn’t going to lick it clean.

Lance was grateful to Joey for letting it go, at least for the time being, so he only put up a token resistance to picking up the check.

*

Justin looked up from the mixing board, his eyes searching the room before he frowned in annoyance. “Where’s Chris?” he demanded. He had gotten back from his late lunch with Ashton in a pissy mood and Chris wasn’t in the mood to indulge him. He watched him from the decrepit old couch, a broken spring poking him in the ass.

“I’m right here. What the hell do you want?” Justin’s eyes narrowed as they watched Chris crawl out from under the quilt where he’d been sleeping off his jet lag while Justin and JC tweaked and twiddled and wanked all over the board.

“I want you to wake the hell up.” Okay, clearly J wasn’t having any problems expressing himself today. Chris just flipped him off while he yawned and checked for drool.

“I’m awake, baby. I’m all yours.” Chris stood up and walked over to join Justin. “Where’s C?”

“Bathroom.” Justin didn’t say anything else for a minute, but Chris hadn’t known him forever for nothing. He obviously had something on his mind and Chris was pretty sure he knew what it was.

“J. Look at me.” Justin did. “It’s okay. It’ll be fine. Really. It’s all good. Don’t worry, be happy.” Justin smiled reluctantly.

“It’s just-” Justin broke off and sighed. “Here’s the thing. You know they’re doing, like, a _70’s Show_ reunion, right?” Chris nodded. “So, anyway, Ashton was talking to Wilmer this morning and, uh, he said-” He stopped again. Chris went cold. Wilmer. Goddammit, he knew it.

“He said, well, Wilmer told him he and Paris and Lance had a thing Saturday night. In, you know, Vegas.” He played with some knobs and Joey’s voice suddenly echoed loudly all around them. Chris winced and Justin hurriedly turned it back down. “Sorry.”

So that was it. He should have known. Lance could never resist stuff like that.

“I don’t think it’s true, Chris,” Justin said in a rush. “You know Wilmer, he hates to be turned down. He’s just pissed. If it was, like, true, he wouldn’t have said anything.” Justin seemed so hopeful it hurt to look at him.

“It’s okay, J,” Chris said. His lips felt numb and he thought he might throw up. He patted Justin’s arm awkwardly. “Really. It’s not like-” But it was like. It was. He needed to go.

“I just don’t want to see you-” Chris stopped him with a hand over his mouth before he said anything else. Whatever Justin didn’t want, it wasn’t gonna help Chris to hear it.

He laid a sloppy kiss on Justin’s cheek. Justin scowled at him and wiped it off with the back of his hand. “Thanks anyway, kiddo.” Justin pulled him into a hug, and Chris stayed there until Justin let him go.

*

Chris skidded his bike to a stop in the middle of Lance’s driveway. Joey was staying at JC’s tonight, at least he hoped so. Chris wasn’t in the mood to deal with Joe. He was going to try talking to Lance, kind of as a last resort. The very idea made him sweaty. They didn’t talk, him and Lance. They laughed, they fucked, and they fought, but they didn’t talk. Lance was going to think Chris had lost his mind.

Lance opened the door before Chris could knock on it. “I was hoping you’d head over here after JC let you go. He didn’t screw with my vocals, did he?” He stopped talking when Chris didn’t answer. “What’s wrong?” He leaned against the doorframe, hands in his pockets, feet bare, hair ungelled and soft on his forehead. Chris lost any hope he may have been harboring about being strong. He could never resist Lance when he was relaxed and soft-looking, not even when he had been a scared teenager, easing his way into Chris’s bed before Chris knew what hit him. He fronted well, they both did, in different ways. It was both their saving grace and their downfall. Chris swallowed.

“For the love of God, Bass, tell me you have better taste than that. Wilmer?” He kept it light, just in case it was true or something. If it was, he wanted to be able to pretend he was fine with it. He just hoped he could pull it off and that Lance wouldn’t notice his that his hands were shaking.

Lance studied his face for an interminable minute. Then he turned around and went in the house, leaving Chris to follow him. Chris closed the door behind him and leaned against it, waiting.

Lance stood in the entryway, still watching him. Chris couldn’t read his expression at all. Shit. He knew this had been a bad idea. He was torn between hoping Lance could see how he felt just by looking at him, and hoping he’d never figure it out.

Then Lance smiled softly and said, “I do have better taste than that. Although some folks may not see it that way.”

Chris couldn’t think of anything to say that didn’t sound desperate, so he just stood there, trying to breathe.

“Actually, my taste runs to short, annoying older men. Amazing how well that works out for you. Come here.”

Lance took Chris upstairs and undressed him and spread him out on his bed and made him beg before fucking him.

“Are we really gonna do this for real this time?” Lance said after, Chris’s legs still around his waist, his fingers still clutched in Chris’s hair. “Because it’ll make Joey happy if we do.”

“He and J can throw us an engagement party,” Chris said as he ran his hands up and down Lance’s back.

Lance laughed. He shifted so Chris could breathe and closed his eyes. “We’ll tell them tomorrow to start planning it.” He smiled sleepily. “Let’s have it in Vegas.”

Chris grunted. “Good idea, Bass. Not.”

Chris was almost asleep when Lance spoke again. “I couldn’t do it. I didn’t even want to. Surprised the shit out of me, really.” He tugged possessively on Chris’s ass, bringing his thigh up to rub on Chris’s dick. He was still sensitive, and Lance’s hairy leg made him want to squish closer and pull away at the same time. He settled for just wiggling around. Lance put a hand on his hip to hold him still and kissed him until he was breathless. By the time he stopped, Chris was hard again, aching with need.

“You wanna go again?” Lance asked, sounding impressed.

“Hell, yeah,” Chris responded enthusiastically.

Lance slid his hand down Chris’s ass, teasing with his finger, slipping it inside, and Chris hummed with appreciation. He was open and used, and slick with lube, a little sore, and it all felt so good. Lance kept playing around, stroking his finger in and out, and Chris pushed back against his hand, wanting more. Lance gave a low laugh that went straight to Chris’s dick, making it twitch against Lance’s thigh. He scooted back and raised himself up on his hands and knees. He grinned shakily over his shoulder.

“Come on, Bass, come on.” Lance laughed again and kneeled behind him, fumbling for a condom. Then he was in and Chris arched his back and groaned. Lance fucked him nice and slow, but neither one of them lasted very long this time. That was good, because Chris was sure he’d have to sit at some point tomorrow. They ended up with Lance plastered to his sweaty back, trying to breathe.

“Oof,” he said as he tried to buck Lance off. “You’re not the light-weight you look like, you know.” Lance swatted his ass, hard. “Ow. Fucker.”

“You know it.” Lance kissed him sleepily, breaking it off to yawn widely.

“So this is true love, huh? You gonna fall asleep on me every time, now?” Chris could barely keep his own eyes open.

As he drifted off, he could have sworn he heard Lance say, “I love you, too, Kirkpatrick.”

Imagine that.

*

Chris met Ray for a late dinner at Denny’s to make up for standing him up the night before. Lance was in the studio with Joey, who liked to have him around when he recorded his parts. Not for the first time, Chris wondered when Denny’s was going to get a liquor license. He could do with a beer to go with his Moon Over My Hammy.

“So how’s it going with Ashlee, man?” Chris asked as he chewed his eggs.

Ray laughed. “Fine. We’re getting some good stuff laid down. If Joe would stay out of the studio for more than five minutes, we’d probably get more done,” he said dryly.

Chris snickered. “I don’t know where he finds the time to bug you guys, man. He’s driving Lance nuts with Jessica and the talk show gig.”

Ray fiddled with his water glass.

“What?”

“Aaron was hanging out today.” Ashlee and Aaron Carter were supposedly dating, despite, or maybe because of, the Bush twins. The boy couldn’t seem to find anyone his own age, Chris thought, as if he and Lance were any better.

“Okay, I shouldn’t even tell you this, but I know how things are with you, man. It’s kinda hard not to, you know?” Chris knew.

“What’s up?” Chris was sure he didn’t want to hear this.

“Aaron says that Wilmer told him he and Lance and Paris had a thing in Vegas this weekend.” Ray still didn’t look at him.

“Oh, really? Did he say what kind of a thing?” Chris thought he might be starting to get a little pissed off.

“Aaron saw them together at the Palms. He says they were pretty friendly. He says Wilmer told him the three of them fucked,” Ray said bluntly.

Okay, it was time to put a stop to this. Chris stood up abruptly. “I gotta go.”

“Chris-” Ray indicated their half-eaten food with a wave of his hand. Then he nodded. “Okay. I’ll come with you.”

Chris shook his head and Ray ignored him completely. He threw some money on the table and grabbed Chris’s arm. “Whatever you’re gonna do, I’m coming with you.”

Chris considered. “Okay, man. Let’s go clubbing.” He made a beeline for the door, Ray hot on his heels.

*

Chris and Ray were at the bar in the Spider Club. It wasn’t really Chris’s kind of place anymore, but it _was_ the kind of weenie club Valderrama would hang out in. It was also totally the kind of place Lance frequented, and Chris just hoped he didn’t decide to come here instead of quietly waiting at home for Chris when he was done holding Joey’s dick for him. He didn’t think Lance would let him kick Wilmer’s ass and he was determined to do just that.

He scanned the room for what seemed like the hundredth time in the past hour. The crowd glittered and surged around him, alcohol flowed, and noise rolled over him in waves. The music thumped loudly enough for Chris to feel it in his chest. Ray yelled in his ear, “Dude. Over there.” He pointed to the couple who had just come in. It was Wilmer, Paris at his side. Son of a bitch.

Chris waited until they were settled at a table. It would only be a matter of time before Paris’s skanky friends or Wilmer’s buddies joined them. Already Chris could see Danny Masterson headed their way. He elbowed Ray and said, “Come on.”

Standing over Wilmer’s table, Chris did his best to look intimidating. He had the advantage of height, since they were sitting down. Paris smirked languorously up at him and he gritted his teeth. Wilmer narrowed his eyes at him and said, “Hey, Chris. How’s it hanging?”

Chris smiled dangerously. “Hey, Wilmer. How are you?”

“Fine. More than fine. I just got back from a very relaxing weekend in Vegas,” Wilmer said arrogantly. Paris attached herself even more securely to Wilmer’s arm and looked up at Chris through half-closed eyes.

“Yeah, I heard about that. Listen, you fucking moron, knock it off with the lies and innuendos, what do you say?” Chris flexed his hands, which were trying to form fists.

Wilmer glared and shifted in his seat. “Fuck off, Kirkpatrick.”

“I don’t think so, Valderrama. I don’t want to hear about it from one more person, you got that? Or I’ll have to kick your ass.” Chris knew he could be pretty scary when he wanted to be.

“You and what army?” Wilmer’s words were defiant, but he didn’t look so tough. He slanted his eyes at Paris nervously. She just stared up at Chris like she thought he was crazy. Maybe he was.

Before the words, “My army of love,” could leave his mouth, Ray elbowed him. They were beginning to attract an audience. Lance would kill him for sure if he made a big scene. He settled for saying, “You’ve had your fun, now knock it off.”

Wilmer just sat there and glared some more.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Chris waited, but Wilmer clearly didn’t have anything more to say. Chris nodded once, and started to walk away. He turned back around and said, “And don’t look for an invitation to Challenge next year, asshole. You’re not welcome there anymore.”

“Ooh, low blow, Kirkpatrick.” Ray snickered in his ear. “That’ll teach him.”

“Shut up, fucker.” Chris laughed, then stopped dead in his tracks. Lance was standing by the bar, staring at him, his expression unreadable. Ray saw him, too. He pushed Chris in Lance’s direction.

“Go on. I’ll see you later.” He headed for the other end of the bar, where Lindsey Lohan was holding court. Before Chris could think too much about the implications of _that_ , Lance turned on his heel and stalked out the door. Chris hurried after him. The flash of a camera blinded him for a minute, and he almost lost track of Lance’s whereabouts. Fucking paparazzi.

“Lance! Lance, wait up! Dammit, Bass, wait for me!”

For once, Lance didn’t seem to be concerned about what the photographers might get on film. He turned to Chris and yelled, “What the fuck are you doing, Chris? Why are you here?”

Chris really didn’t want to have this conversation in the middle of the street with photographers all around, but if Lance insisted, he would. “I came here looking for Valderrama. I came to tell him to shut his big fat mouth.” He moved towards Lance, closing the distance between them quickly.

“Why? Why would you do something like that?”

“Well, I’m your boyfriend, Bass. I can’t let that cocksucker go around telling lies about you, can I? I had to defend your honor.”

Lance laughed unsteadily. “My honor?”

“Yep. That okay with you?” Chris grinned back at him.

“Um, yes?” Lance swayed towards him and Chris was conscious of the crowd on the sidewalk, and the photographers waiting for something interesting to take a picture of. Why they thought people walking in and out of a club, even famous people, was interesting, was beyond Chris.

“Can we get out of here?” he asked Lance.

Lance nodded. “Yeah, I have a car.” Chris bared his teeth at the photographers and hoped his ugly mug didn’t end up all over the Internet tomorrow. Lance smiled and threw his usual devil horns at them as they waited for his car, because he was totally incapable of not doing it. Chris laughed at him and Lance beamed back happily.

*

Apparently, having his honor avenged made Lance hot. Who knew? If his driver had been one of theirs, or if the car had tinted windows, he would have been naked in the back seat before they pulled away from the curb. It wouldn’t have been the first time. As it was, they barely made it into the house. Lance tugged his tee-shirt off with one hand while he keyed in the security code with the other. He thought Joey was at Justin’s house tonight, but he really didn’t care. Joey could just fuck off.

Chris shoved him against the wall once they were safely inside. He shoved back, trying to get his jeans off. They got caught on his shoes and he would have fallen flat on his face if Chris hadn’t pushed him against the wall again and held him there.

“Don’t move.” Chris’s voice pinned him in place as much as the hand in the middle of his chest did. Chris kissed him just once, a hard, possessive kiss, then dropped to his knees. He pulled Lance’s boxers down just below his ass, the elastic of the waistband snug against his balls.

Lance banged head back against the wall. “Oh, fuck.”

“Easy, you gotta stay conscious for this.” Chris sucked him off slowly, relentlessly, until Lance was trembling and scrabbling at the wall to keep his knees from buckling. He thought he might die from the hotness of it all.

*

Justin watched Lance and Chris together on the couch in the studio. He and Joey and JC were huddled over the mixing board, pretending to fix the buzz on Lance’s vocals that they couldn’t get rid of, but that in reality only JC could hear. Joey and Justin were humoring him so that they could talk about Chris and Lance in secret.

Lance appeared to be engrossed in another movie script, while Chris listened to his ipod and held a biker magazine on his lap. But Justin couldn’t help notice where Chris’s other hand was, and how Lance was subtly moving his hips in an unmistakable rhythm. Ew, except Justin was willing to put up with studio sex if it meant no more drama. Also, that damn couch had definitely seen better days, and now he had the perfect reason to insist on throwing it out. Joey would have to let him.

“Justin. Justin!” JC hissed in his ear to get his attention.

Justin dragged his eyes off the action on the couch. He did not think _that_ was hot, not at all. “I knew my plan would work,” he whispered triumphantly.

“What plan was that, J?” Joey asked with a grin. JC snickered.

“It was subtle, yo.” Okay, so he never actually came up with a plan. They didn’t need to know that, it was a mere technicality. Justin let them laugh. He could afford to be magnanimous. He hadn’t needed to think of anything in the end, that dumbass Wilmer unwittingly took care of it for him. He just had to help it along. He heard a low groan from the couch, followed by a quiet laugh. Yep, they were so getting rid of that couch.

“Do you think we could actually get some work done now?” JC asked. “Like, I don’t know, record an album? Before everyone completely forgets who the hell we are?”

Joey kissed him on the cheek. “They’ll never forget you, baby. You’re unforgettable.”

JC blushed, something he only seemed to do for Joey these days. Justin laughed. They were ready to get down to work and kick some serious ass, he just knew it.

He yelled over to the two lovebirds on the couch, “Listen to this playback, Kirkpatrick, and tell me your boyfriend didn’t put a twang in his voice just to fuck with JC.”

Chris visibly shivered as Lance’s deep voice rumbled out of the speakers.

Justin laughed again. “And keep your hands out of his pants, Bass. I can’t get a new couch in here until tomorrow, and Joey has to have some place to park his ass tonight.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the 2004 DWNOGA challenge, for GiddyGeek. Many, many thanks to Pet and Georgina for doing this every year. Thank you to Mary for the beta, Linda for the hand-holding, Rhys for the read-through, and Ashley for help with the plot and listening to me whine.


End file.
